


undress you, vulgarize you a bit

by havisham



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: B-Movies, Banquetfic, Drunk Yuri Is A Force of Nature, Flirting, Fuckbuddies, Hand Jobs, Hot For Victor: The Christophe Giacometti Story, M/M, Pining, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: At the banquet after the Sochi Grand Prix Final, Chris finally spotted the only person he had wanted to see the whole evening.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sath for beta-ing! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Title from Henry Miller.

“Victor! Did you see that trailer I sent you? Did you recognize me under all that blood?” Victor looked up from his phone, his default expression of polite interest cracking into a huge smile. Chris enveloped Victor into a long, lingering hug -- which meant nothing, of course, they were only friends. 

He heard a growl at his elbow, and saw young Yuri Plisetsky look like he wanted to bite off a chunk of Chris’ arm, but Chris would not be cowed by a little boy ten years his junior. He let Victor go with a final, regretful pat on the behind while Victor smiled at him. 

“I did see it but I can’t seem to remember the name. What was it?” 

“Blades of Death II: Blood On Ice. They made it as a tax write-off you know, but still. My first role!” Chris noticed that the little Yuri was still glaring daggers at him. “Where’s Yakov? Don’t tell me you’re babysitting all evening, Victor! I have plans for after the banquet -- I brought a surprise.” 

“Oh, Yakov thought I should. I’ve been trying to mentor him…” 

“Jesus,” Chris said, with real feeling. 

Yuri interrupted, quite rudely, and said, “I’m going, I don’t need to hear senior citizens talking about about their stupid old glory days.” 

He stalked away, scaring a waiter was unfortunate enough to offer him a slice of pancetta-wrapped melon.

“But we … won just yesterday. It was just yesterday, wasn’t it? Or is my mind going too?” Chris said slowly. He looked at Victor, pleadingly, “Am I so old and decrepit at 24, Victor?” 

Victor took his arm and began to led him toward a more private corner of the room, where they could talk without too many people overhearing them. He said, “Of course not. But I see that you’re looking beyond your skating career. That’s what the movie was about, wasn’t it?” 

“Well, yeah.” Chris ruffled his hair and gave Victor a brilliant smile. “Everyone’s got to look at the future! What are you going to do when you retire -- in ten, fifteen years, I mean?” 

Victor winced. “I think it would be sooner than that, Chris.” 

“No! Don’t be so selfish, Victor! How can I motivate myself without you? Everyday I take out my Victor Nikiforov icon and kiss it, thanking God that he’s given you to me -- and the whole skating community, of course -- so we may measure ourselves against perfection.” 

“Such a long speech. Did you practise it?” 

“An actor never reveals his secrets.”

Victor opened his mouth to reply, but Chris never heard what he was going to say because there was a crash and Yuri started shrieking about a dance-off. Another skater, who Chris belated remembered was also confusingly named Yuri, was already stripping his clothes off like it was the afterparty, not the staid old Grand Prix Final Banquet where all fun went to die. 

What was his name again? Yuri, Yuri -- 

Wait, it was Katsuki Yuri! Who knew? 

Chris hadn’t -- he had to Google for a solid minute trying to match the party animal in front of him to the shy, retiring Japanese skater whose career had been mothballed yesterday, in what the blogs were calling the worst Grand Prix performance since that year a Russian pair had donned some very politically (and frankly, fashionably) incorrect costumes and performed in them, causing world-wide consternation. 

Which went to show how wrong the blogs got it. 

Yuri’s performance was only the worst for himself. Other people, like Chris, had gotten off fine. Victor, for example, had done even better. 

Chris hadn’t had a chance to see Yuri destroy himself live. He’d been on the phone with his agent when Yuri had skated in the Grand Prix, and they hadn’t shared any events before then. Besides, Chris wasn’t the type of skater who wanted to see other skaters fail. After all, failure was the opposite of sexy, and Chris would never subject himself to something like that. 

But still -- despite an absolutely humiliating, crushing and utterly horrifying defeat, Japanese Yuri was winning this dance-off like it was the Grand Prix, utterly crushing little Russian Yuri to bits. 

Chris instantly knew that the stripper pole he had brought (for said afterparty) would go into use much sooner tonight. His pants had tightened in excitement, just thinking about it. 

Beside him, Victor looked thoughtful, which meant that he was thinking of joining them, or he was wondering what to eat for breakfast tomorrow or if he was planning to knit a sweater for Makkachin -- or something else entirely.

Victor could be so inscrutable and Chris wasn’t particularly good at scruting. 

Sometimes when he looked like that, Chris wondered if Victor was actually as handsome as he had always believed. Take away the distracting silver, floppy hair, and the bright blue eyes, didn’t Victor sometimes look like weird alien creature? One that had been dropped on this planet with no skills besides skating through the ice like he had been born there. 

(Was Victor from an ice planet, then?) 

Victor blinked and looked over to Chris, his gaze sharp and measuring. He was smiling slightly, but the smile had a competitive edge to it. Chris almost whined in frustration, in seeing it. It was __so__ hot. Why did Victor do this to him?

Victor said, “Shall we join them?” 

Feeling a little petty, Chris said, “A dance-off between a kid and a loser?” 

“Yeah! Better than talking about bad movies!” Victor was already leaving him behind, weaving through the throngs of people to get to the now-breakdancing Yuris.

In truth, Chris had always had a little bit of trouble figuring out what made Victor tick. If he had, after all, he would’ve been the one with the gold medal, not silver. 

*

Jealousy was an ugly emotion, especially the kind that gnawed anxiously in the pit of your stomach when you saw your greatest rival meet his match (with someone who wasn't you) -- but Chris got over it quickly. 

Especially when Yuri proved to be really good at pole-dancing. His thighs were out of this world and his commitment was total. Chris couldn't help but adore this Yuri, wild man though he clearly was. 

Game recognize game, after all. 

*

Yuri fainted in Victor’s arms shortly after he was unanimously declared the winner of the banquet dance off. Russian Yuri was losing his mind, but thankfully Yakov had appeared from nowhere to collect his charge and haul him away for his bedtime. 

“Do you have Celestino’s number?” Victor asked Chris as the latter was checking to see if he'd gotten enough photos and vids for the evening. 

“No, he blocked me when he thought I was dating one of his skaters,” Chris said. “Why don't you try Yuri’s phone?” 

“Where is it?” 

Chris picked up Yuri’s discarded dress pants and checked its pockets. There was a hotel keycard, with the room number written in the back with a marker, but no phone. Next he checked Yuri’s jacket, where he found it, an iPhone in a blue phone case with dancing poodles all around it. 

“Cute case,” he said, handing the phone to Victor. Victor frowned, realizing maybe for the first time that he didn't know Yuri’s passcode. Suddenly, Yuri, who had been perfectly still curled up in Victor’s arms, jerked forward and grabbed his phone from Victor’s grasp. 

“Victor! Did I win?” Yuri said -- or more accurately, shouted. He clung closer to Victor’s jacket. “Can we have a commemorative photo together now?” 

“It was a devastating victory, my dear,” Victor said, “but maybe you should call your coach first?” 

“I can't understand how you could drink so much and not die, Yuri! Do you need to go to the hospital?” Chris asked cheerfully. 

Yuri frowned at him. “No. If the party’s over, I'm going back to my hotel room.” 

“I'm going with you,” Victor said. 

“I'll tag along too,” Chris said a beat later. 

With considerable dignity, Yuri began to dress himself. Not entirely successfully-- his tie remained on his head -- and he couldn't find his shirt (it was stuffed in his pants) so he wore his jacket instead. With Victor and Chris taking each side, they left the ballroom. 

Yuri’s room was on the tenth floor, down a long hallway. Yuri was nowhere near sober, although he was more quiet than before. At times he’d stop and shuffle his shoes, or attempt to twirl Victor around (which didn’t work, since Victor was taller than he was). Chris still had Yuri’s hotel key, and opened the door. It looked like a clothes bomb had gone off inside -- clothes and food containers crunched underneath their feet. 

“Wow,” Victor said, looking around. He cleared a space on the bed and sat down. Yuri plopped down next to him and immediately put his head on Victor’s lap. After a second of hesitation, Victor began to stroke his hair. 

“I’ve always loved you,” Yuri said, and began to cry softly.

“It’s all right. You’ll be all right. Is this your first time getting drunk?” 

“What? No!” Yuri sniffed loudly and wiped his eyes. “I can drink Phichit under the table.” 

“Mm, I know who Phichit is,” Chris said as he scrolled through his phone. He felt like a third wheel here, but not enough to leave. Victor looked at him for a moment, like he didn’t recognize him -- or maybe he didn’t know what he was doing there. 

“Chris, you won’t post those pictures you have of Yuri, will you?” 

“Of course not,” Chris said, annoyed at having been asked. “What do you take me for? Although some of them were really --” 

Victor shook his head. 

“I won’t,” Chris finished awkwardly. 

“Neither will I,” Victor said. He looked down at Yuri, who seemed, impossibly, to be sound asleep. “I’ll take care that Plisetsky won’t either.” 

“And the other people with phones at the banquet? What about them?” 

Victor shrugged. “Maybe professional courtesy will win out. Here, help me with him.” 

Together, they managed to undress Yuri again and tuck him into bed. Around the same time, Yuri’s phone rang -- it was Celestino. Victor answered. It was a short conversation -- he explained what had happened and where Yuri was. Celestino said he would be there right away, and thanked them for their help. Not very subtly, Celestino also said that they were free to leave. 

“I think he blames us for this,” Victor said, as they left. The sound of Yuri snoring followed them out. Victor paused for a moment and looked back, while Chris waited outside. 

“We improved the situation, didn’t we?” Chris said, as Victor came out of the room and closed the door behind him. “Where was Celestino during all of this?” 

“I didn’t ask,” Victor said, with a wry twist of his mouth. He pressed the elevator’s up button. He was on the 16th floor, and Chris was on the 14th. The elevator was old and made creaking noises as it came down to their floor. The lights flickered dangerous as soon as they boarded. It was, however, empty when it got to them. 

As soon as the doors closed again, Chris leaned against Victor, putting his head briefly on Victor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. Will you take me to bed?” 

“Chris…” 

Chris pressed against him, insistent. God, he was so hot for it. 

Off the ice, only Victor could make him feel like this. “I know you like surprises and love new things but -- I think I could do it for you too.” Chris slipped his hand down Victor’s trousers and began to stroke Victor’s hardening cock. 

Victor was still for a moment until the elevator began to beep a warning for them to make a selection. He glared at Chris before hitting the Floor 16 button. 

*

A year later, Chris was trailing his feet into the blue-green water of the hotel swimming pool. He leaned back and gave Victor a sly glance. “I heard it’s serious between you and Katsuki. Do I have to buy off the registry, or can I bring something else?” 

Victor ignored him and continued to play on his phone.

Chris chuckled and sipped his champagne. “I don’t hear a no.”

 

“Yuri has changed my life,” Victor said, putting aside his phone. “He’s not like anyone else I’ve been with before.” 

“Hey!” Chris folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe there’s a difference between friends who fuck and the love of your life but -- my feelings are hurt.” 

“I’m sorry, Chris,” Victor said cheerfully as he got up and pushed Chris into the pool. 

“Ah!” Chris said, spitting out pool water. “Love really improved you, Victor.” 

“I know.” Victor stretched out and sighed. “Come up and talk to Yuri.” 

“Sure. Another lap and then --” 

(And then, the future and all that held.) 

But the water was cold and his fleece-lined robe was calling out to him -- so Chris got out of the pool. He saw, to his satisfaction, that Victor only had a hotel towel to keep him warm -- what a failure of planning on his part! Old age and forgetfulness had caught up with Victor Nikiforov at last. 

He bumped against Victor as they were leaving the pool. “If you died from exposure out there, would Katsuki send ninjas after me?” 

Victor glanced back and smiled. “He would come after you himself.” 

Chris mock-shuddered -- but in truth, he believed Victor completely. They went inside, where there was warmth and light. 

If he had to give Victor up, Chris decided, at least Yuri was worthy of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please look for Christophe Giacometti in _Blades of Death III: The Russian Hacking Incident_ (dir. Uwe Boll) coming to a streaming service near you, February 2017.


End file.
